When the buzz began on Sunday night that one or more additional accusers were about to come forward against Brett Kavanaugh, I found myself momentarily excited. After all, this nomination needs to be killed off for the sanctity of democracy in general, and for the safety and well being of women everywhere. Then the stories surfaced. I’ve been reading, studying, researching, and writing about these new developments for the past few hours – and now I want to vomit.

These stories are simply horrifying. Deborah Ramirez says that Brett Kavanaugh subjected her to sexual assault at a drunken college party. This comes after Dr. Christine Blasey Ford said that Kavanaugh subjected her to attempted rape at a drunken high school party. See the pattern here? If these two women are both telling the truth, and why wouldn’t they be, how many more women were subjected to this sort of thing by Kavanaugh? How many more of his victims are out there who are afraid or unable to come forward? Then it somehow got even worse.

Michael Avenatti announced that he has multiple witnesses who want to testify before Congress that Brett Kavanaugh and his friends arranged parties in their youth for the specific purpose of getting women drunk and high so they could gang rape them. If this proves to be true, then just how many women has Kavanaugh raped? Five? Ten? Fifty? These aren’t just numbers; these women are real people whose lives have been ruined by this maniac and the surrounding culture which allowed him to get away with it.

Yeah, this is “good news” in the sense that it puts us much closer to keeping a corrupt monster off the Supreme Court, which in turn puts us closer to ousting the corrupt monster who occupies the Oval Office. But there’s nothing to celebrate here. I feel physically ill just from reading these revelations, and I’m not a woman. I don’t have to live in fear that someone like Kavanaugh might do something like this to me in the future, or have to relive the memories of someone like Kavanaugh having done something like this to me in the past. I can’t begin to imagine what women are feeling tonight.